You’re scrolling through Twitter or TikTok and you see it again. That specific, slightly panicked, mostly comedic refrain: and so they were both bottoms. Usually, it's a caption on a fan art piece of two fictional characters who radiate "submissive" energy. Or maybe it’s a story about a real-life date that went beautifully until the bedroom door closed and an awkward realization dawned on everyone involved.
It’s a meme. It’s a tragedy. It’s a logistical puzzle.
But behind the jokes about "roommates" and "useless bottoms," there is a very real conversation about sexual identity, the breakdown of the traditional top/bottom binary, and how queer people—specifically men and non-binary folks—navigate intimacy when their "roles" don’t align like puzzle pieces. Honestly, the obsession with this phrase reveals more about how we categorize desire than we might want to admit.
The Origin of a Modern Meme
Memes don't just happen. They're born from a specific cultural friction. The phrase and so they were both bottoms is a play on the classic "and they were roommates" Vine, which mocked the historical erasure of queer relationships. While "roommates" hid the relationship, "both bottoms" highlights a specific kind of internal community struggle: the dreaded "sexual incompatibility."
In gay culture, the top/bottom binary has often been treated as a law of nature. You have a "key" and a "lock." Simple, right? Except humans aren't hardware.
When people use the phrase today, they’re usually talking about "Sides," a term popularized by sex therapist Dr. Joe Kort. A Side is someone who doesn't particularly enjoy anal sex—either giving or receiving. But the "both bottoms" dilemma specifically refers to two people who do want that specific type of intimacy, but only from one side of the equation.
Why Does This Keep Happening?
It’s tempting to blame "vibe" or personality. We’ve all seen the stereotypes: the "bottom" is the one who likes iced coffee and can’t drive, while the "top" is the rugged, assertive one.
This is nonsense.
In reality, sexual preference in the bedroom rarely maps perfectly onto public-facing personality traits. This is exactly why the and so they were both bottoms scenario occurs so frequently. Two people meet. They both happen to be assertive, masculine, or "traditionally" dominant in their careers or social lives. They get home, and it turns out they both prefer the same role in bed.
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The Statistical Reality
There isn’t a massive, peer-reviewed census on who prefers what position—mostly because these things are fluid—but various surveys on apps like Grindr and Scruff suggest a recurring imbalance. In many urban centers, self-identified bottoms often outnumber tops.
Why? Some sociologists suggest it’s because "bottoming" has been historically stigmatized, and as queer acceptance grows, more people feel comfortable embracing that desire. Others argue it’s just the "Top Shortage" myth—a localized phenomenon where everyone thinks there are no tops, while the tops are actually just busy or looking for something specific.
Moving Past the Binary
The funniest thing about the and so they were both bottoms crisis is that it assumes sex is a zero-sum game.
If you talk to older generations of queer men—the folks who lived through the pre-app era—they’ll tell you that "versatility" wasn't a choice; it was a necessity. If you liked someone, you figured it out. You took turns. You experimented.
The rigid "I only do X" identity is a relatively recent development, bolstered by dating app filters that allow us to shop for partners based on specific sexual "parts." When you can filter for a "Top," you stop learning how to be flexible.
The Rise of the "Vers" Revolution
The solution to the and so they were both bottoms problem isn't just finding a third person (though polyamory is a valid path many take). It’s the "Versatile" or "Vers" identity.
Being "Vers" doesn't mean you like both equally. It just means you value the connection with the person more than the specific mechanical act. It’s about "the give and take," literally. When two people who both prefer bottoming end up in a long-term relationship, they often develop a "Vers-out-of-love" dynamic.
Is it always perfect? No. Sometimes the "top" role feels like a chore. But it beats breaking up with a soulmate because of a technicality.
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The "Side" Option: When Anal Isn't the Point
We need to talk about Sides.
For a long time, if you didn't have anal sex, you weren't "really" having gay sex. That’s a toxic holdover from heteronormative ideas of penetration being the "main event."
A huge segment of the population that finds themselves in the and so they were both bottoms trap eventually realizes they don't actually need to do that to be satisfied. Oral, frottage (intercrural sex), manual play, and BDSM are all complete experiences.
If you’re both bottoms, maybe you just... don't do it. And that's fine. Honestly, it’s more than fine; it’s liberating. It removes the performance anxiety of "who has to be the man tonight" and lets the intimacy be whatever it naturally wants to be.
Logistics and the "Technical" Bottom
Sometimes the issue isn't desire, it's "equipment."
In the trans and non-binary community, the and so they were both bottoms joke takes on a different layer. It might refer to "bottom dysphoria" or simply the physical realities of post-operative or pre-operative bodies.
In these cases, the "crisis" is solved through communication and toys. The toy industry has evolved. Strap-ons, double-ended dildos, and high-tech vibrators have made the "two bottoms" scenario a non-issue for anyone willing to put in the effort. If the soul is willing but the biology is redundant, technology steps in.
Communication: The Only Real Fix
The reason this phrase stays viral is that it touches on our fear of being "unfixable." We worry that our desires make us incompatible with the people we love.
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But talk to any sex therapist—like the aforementioned Dr. Joe Kort or the legendary Esther Perel—and they’ll tell you that sexual compatibility is built, not found. You don't "find" a perfect match; you negotiate a series of compromises that eventually feel like a perfect match.
If you find yourself in an and so they were both bottoms situation:
- Drop the labels for a night. Forget the "Top/Bottom" identity. Focus on what feels good in the moment without trying to fit it into a category.
- Invest in high-quality gear. If you both want to receive, find ways to make that happen simultaneously or through tools that don't require one person to perform a role they don't enjoy.
- Redefine "Sex." If the goal is orgasm and closeness, there are a thousand ways to get there that don't involve the specific act you're both "bottoming" for.
- Be honest about "The Switch." Many people find that they can top, but only for a specific person they trust deeply. It's about safety, not just "dominance."
The "tragedy" of the two bottoms is only a tragedy if you view sex as a script that must be followed. Once you realize the script is fake, the fact that you both prefer the same thing becomes an opportunity for creativity rather than a reason to call it quits.
Actionable Next Steps
If you’re currently in a relationship where you’ve realized you’re both bottoms, or if you’re dating and keep running into this wall, stop looking for a "Top" and start looking for a "Partner."
Assess your flexibility. Ask yourself: "Do I hate topping, or do I just find it intimidating?" Often, the "bottom" label is a shield for performance anxiety.
Try "Side" sex for a month. Take penetration off the table entirely. See how much fun you can have without it. You might find that the pressure to perform a specific role was what was actually killing the mood, not the lack of a "Top."
Communicate early. If a specific sexual role is a hard dealbreaker for you, it’s okay to mention that early on. But keep an open mind—people change, and the right person can often make "unappealing" roles feel surprisingly natural.
Ultimately, being "both bottoms" is just a starting point for a deeper conversation about what you actually want out of intimacy.